Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

" T he Marquess of Neads," the butler announced, and Emma instantly felt her heart sink.

What had she been hoping? For George to be her knight in shining armor and swoop in to save her from her fate? How delusional of her, she thought miserably as the old Marquess strode into the drawing room.

"Where is Dewsbury? I need to speak to him at once," the Marquess declared without preamble.

"If you will take a seat, my lord, the Baron will join us shortly," Caroline offered with a calm demeanor.

"Us?" Neads echoed with ostensible surprise and disdain. "Oh, do not think that I will allow you in on my business transactions with the Baron. I refuse to have women in my discussions," he turned up his nose at them.

Emma was as indignant as she was appalled. Her mother appeared equally displeased.

"Now where is your husband, woman?" Neads demanded.

Caroline's eyes flashed with anger. "You are in my residence, underneath my roof, Lord Neads. You will accord me the respect I deserve and comport yourself accordingly," she ground out, her voice steady and firm.

Emma was surprised by her mother's vivacity, a surge of pride swelling within her. Perhaps this was her mother all along, and she had only employed a different facade under their circumstances.

The Marquess gave a displeased scoff before he carried on, "I will need to negotiate a different price with Dewsbury. Now that his daughter has been compromised, she is worth less."

He spoke of her as though she was not in the room. Emma did not know what was more shocking—the fact that her father had sold her, or that the Marquess still intended to marry her after all the curses he had rained down on them last night.

Is he desperate for a wife?

"My daughter is not an object to be negotiated," Caroline said indignantly, her voice resonating with righteous anger.

"You should tell that to your husband," the Marquess spat.

Caroline's eyes flashed with fury. "One more insult from you, Lord Neads, and I shall have you escorted out to find your bride elsewhere," she threatened with such confidence that one would think she was truly in charge of the house.

The Marquess had just opened his mouth to retort when the Baron finally joined them. "We shall have a word away from the women, Dewsbury," the Marquess demanded at once.

With an all but polite and friendly air, her father escorted the Marquess away to his study.

Caroline turned to Emma with an air of regret. "If that is not desperation, I do not know what is," she remarked, shaking her head.

"I must confess, I had been hoping he would step down and forfeit the marriage after the scandal," Caroline added, surprising Emma yet again with this admission.

"I had hoped the same, Mother," Emma confessed, her voice tinged with sorrow.

"Neads is desperate, and no one wants to give him their daughter. At least, not a pretty one," Caroline said, her tone filled with disdain.

"He insists on a girl with more than decent looks, you see. And all the ones available to him do not fulfill those conditions," she added, her eyes narrowing in contempt.

"Well, he will certainly need to compensate somewhere for his own looks; otherwise, I would almost feel sorry for his children," Emma said flatly.

Her mother could not help but smile at Emma's remark. "I am sorry, Emma. If only there was something I could do," she apologized once again, her demeanor growing more somber.

Emma's gaze traveled in the direction of the mantle clock. It was already noon, and George had yet to call. She wondered once again if he would ever show. If he did not, would she have to resign herself to her fate or resort to running away as Antoinetta had suggested?

The clock ticked away relentlessly. Her father remained locked in discussion with Neads, and George was nowhere to be seen. Emma began to pace the length of the drawing room, her footsteps echoing her anxiety.

"I want to believe that there is still hope, Emma," her mother said softly, watching her daughter's restless movements.

Emma forced a small smile, though her faith wavered. "I appreciate your encouragement, Mother," she replied, though the words felt hollow.

A door suddenly opened nearby, and Emma's gaze shot up, dread gripping her heart once more. This was it. Her father had finally sealed her fate. And George would never show up.

Instead of her father's study door, as she had feared, she saw a maid exiting one of the salons. Emma exhaled a shaky breath, relief mingling with her persistent anxiety. As she struggled to contain herself, the butler suddenly appeared. Before he could announce anything, George strode into the room.

Emma's breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded fiercely as she took in his tall figure and determined expression. She felt a surge of hope so strong it nearly overwhelmed her.

"The Duke of, ah... Seymore," the butler stammered.

"I knew he would come!" Caroline shot to her feet, her excitement all too palpable.

Emma felt her legs grow weak with relief, barely able to support her weight. Tears of relief pricked at her eyes, threatening to spill over. She grasped the back of a chair for support, her emotions a tumultuous mix of hope and anxiety.

She could not be sure of George's reason for coming. A little voice in her head whispered doubts, and that anxiety washed over her once more. It was just as quickly snuffed, however, when George said, "I apologize for my lateness, but I had to obtain a license first."

Emma noticed for the first time the document he bore in his hand. Her heart leaped with a mix of disbelief and joy.

"Oh, thank heavens," her mother exclaimed, enveloping Emma in a hug. Emma found herself in utter shock. Had she heard him correctly? A special license? Was he truly here to offer for her?

More tears blinded her eyes as she struggled to blink them away. "I have the license for us to marry, Emma," George approached her as her mother pulled away.

Emma was at a loss for words, her heart pounding in her chest. As though he sensed her speechlessness, he gave her an encouraging smile and added, "Yes. I am here to offer for you, darling."

"You were not pleased the last time you addressed me thusly," she murmured.

He took her hand and raised it to his lips. "Much has changed since then, and I know the truth now." He glanced at Caroline, his eyes sparking with disdain.

Emma quickly shook her head. "My mother is innocent."

He nodded once and looked down at her. "I am here."

Emma's heart swelled, but she did not have time to relish this new and unbelievable turn of fortune as a heavy dread settled in her stomach, furrowing her brows.

"It might be too late already," she said. "The Marquess is in my father's study. They have been in there a while, and they might have signed the contract already," she added, praying fervently for some intervention from the heavens. A miracle even. A miracle to set her free.

"It does not matter, Emma." George kissed her hand again. "The most important thing is if you will have me as your husband?" he asked, his sincerity evident in his eyes.

This question surprised her. Even more so, his earnestness. If this were all just a dream, then she wished never to wake up.

She nodded her response, and he raised one brow. "Miss Lovell speechless?"

She chuckled. "She certainly is, for an insufferable Duke is making an offer for her."

"Is she inclined to accept?"

"Yes, George. She is most inclined to have him as her husband," she said, her heart soaring with a happiness she had scarcely dared to hope for.

He beamed at her. "I will find a way to make Neads relinquish the contract. It shall not be a problem," he reassured her. "Now, which way to the Baron's study?" he asked.

The butler, who had stood witness all the while, wore a mighty grin on his face as he said, "This way, Your Grace."

George proceeded to her father's study, and Caroline rushed to embrace her. "You shall be well and safe, my dear. You shall be happy!"

"Yes, Mother!" After a moment, Emma exchanged a look with her mother and found they were thinking the same thing. "We should follow him." Caroline nodded her agreement.

They walked in to hear George declaring, "I am here to offer for Emma."

"That is preposterous!" Neads cried. "I have already signed the contract. Not to mention the numerous payments I have made," he added indignantly.

"I am afraid the ink is already dried, Seymore," her father said. Emma's heart sank at those words, though she was not surprised.

"Now listen here, Dewsbury, and listen carefully," George's voice dipped into a dangerously low tone, his demeanor shifting to one of steel, "I may not have a stellar reputation in society, but I doubt the English aristocracy care for such where the hierarchy is concerned. I am certain they will be all too willing to shun a baron out of society once a duke tells them to. You will be no more than a ghost, Dewsbury. And I shall relish every moment of making you and all your businesses invisible. Not just in England, but across the continent as well," George added, his voice cold.

Emma could have sworn she heard her father gulp nervously. He suddenly appeared very small as George towered over him, the confidence draining entirely from his demeanor.

"Are we clear now, Dewsbury?" George asked, his tone brooking no opposition.

The Baron nodded. It was all he could do, really, Emma thought triumphantly.

"I will not have this!" the Marquess's voice rang out, shattering Emma's brief moment of satisfaction. She had almost forgotten his presence and the reason for it. "I acquired her first. I have an agreement with the Baron. Do we not, Dewsbury?" he added, turning to her father.

"I... well..." Tristan stuttered, his confidence visibly shaken.

"First of all, Emma is not an object of your possession, Neads," George ground out. "And second, by all means, you may refuse to back down if you wish your sources of income equally drained, buried, and forgotten."

Neads gave him a murderous glare before turning to her father. "You will return the initial sum I paid you, Dewsbury, or I shall be the one to render you a ghost in society before Seymore does," he spat. With these final words, he turned and stormed out of the study, his footsteps heavy and echoing through the hall.

Emma sagged against her mother at last, relief washing over her. She could scarcely believe that she was finally free from the Marquess's grasp.

"Now, where were we?" George turned back to her father with a wicked grin. Tristan swallowed nervously, his eyes darting between George and Emma. "Ah, yes. I believe you were about to tear that contract to pieces and toss it into the hearth, Dewsbury," George said, his voice deceptively calm.

"Ah, yes, yes," her father stammered, quickly tearing the document and tossing it into the fireplace as instructed. The flames consumed the paper, erasing the last remnants of her unwanted betrothal.

"We shall be wed in a week," George declared, turning to Emma with a bright smile on his face.

A smile that banished the dark clouds looming threateningly over her future. He took her hands in his and pressed tender kisses into her palms before saying, "Thank you for giving me the honor to be your husband, Emma."

Emma returned his smile, still trying to come to terms with all that had just transpired. She marveled at the turn of events, wondering if she was truly going to marry the man she had fallen in love with.